


It's All In The Past

by MeredithBrody



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Irish Republican Army, Manchester Bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeredithBrody/pseuds/MeredithBrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is asked for the notes he took on June 15th, 1996 - prompting flashbacks and a trip down memory lane to the one thing that shaped his career as a Journalist. (Present time and 1996)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All In The Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinkAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAngel/gifts), [Sokorra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokorra/gifts), [galia_carrots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galia_carrots/gifts), [Huntchaser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntchaser/gifts).



> So, I was explaining to PinkAngel what growing up under the IRA was like, and what being there on the day of the Manchester Bomb was like. I admit, a lot of this is extrapolation, I was only 8 at the time, but I remember Victoria Station shaking. So I decided to write this and see what people thought.

James hadn’t looked at this file in years. He didn’t think that he’d even thought about it until recently, until the BBC had contacted him and asked him if he still had his articles, his notes. Until he’d realised that it had been almost 20 years since that day, the day that inevitably shaped his career as a journalist.

He’d been staying in Manchester over the summer. Hoping to do a cultural piece on the city for his dissertation. Manchester was the UK’s melting pot. There were dozens of cultures confined to this one small city. The northern half of the city was distressed and industrial. In the midst of planning for development, but nothing much had started yet.

Picturing the scene he could remember it all. He could remember the chatter of the people around. The sound of a little girl in the next table speaking a language both foreign and familiar. The smell of the food court, everywhere switching from breakfast to lunch menus. The colours and the brightness. It was a sunny day, peaceful. All he was doing was writing down his observations.

Then everything had changed, the evacuation announcements had come over the tannoy, police started directing people away from the city centre. Away from Corporation Street. All James could remember was grumbling. They had these evacuations fairly regularly, normally nothing was happening. He, like everyone else in the city, had been brought up under the shadow of the IRA. They were used to the threats, the bomb scares.

James had grabbed his camera and waited just outside the cordon. He’d been close enough to get pictures of the attempts to diffuse the device, to be pushed back when the first attempt failed. He’d been close enough to have been blown back by the shockwave when the device had gone off, and he’d been covered in cuts and bruises from the debris. 

He was also close enough to start photographing the immediate aftermath, and he didn’t understand how any city could come back from damage like this. The Marks and Spencer’s that the van had been parked beside was nearly destroyed. There was obvious structural damage to large parts of the Arndale and the other buildings nearby. The only thing standing was the post box, which didn’t seem to have even a mark on.

Once again, the sounds came back to him, the sirens that seemed to be coming from every direction. The sound of glass tinkling, as more bits showered down on him from the hundreds of shattered windows all through Manchester city centre. Using his press credentials he’d walked around the site, taking pictures. The creaking of buildings settling again haunted his dreams for month.

The dust made it hard to breathe, it coated everything, and at the same time as being coarse and rough, it was sticky. He couldn’t brush it off, he just had to accept that he was going to be covered in dust. He stared up at the now empty windows. The empty spaces that only minutes before had been shops or offices. It was hard to tell what they all were now.

James stared at the pictures he took and remembered that day in June. He knew that Manchester was lucky. Luckier than Warrington had been a couple of years earlier where two children had died. There were injuries there, a lot of them, but there hadn’t been any fatalities.

Sitting there, going through this one moment from his past, he was in a weird situation where he was in the present, but he was also back there. Walking along Corporation Street seeing the destruction of this proud and beautiful city. This city he loved to call home since he’d started university He couldn’t believe the damage, the fact that nothing was going to be the same.

All of a sudden he felt hands on his chest from behind, and slowly a head joined them, resting softly on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look to know that it was Meredith. She soothed him just by being in the same room. He continued just looking at the pictures, letting her do what she’d come to do. “Where are you?”

“What?” He snapped, probably more harshly than he intended. He just had been so engrossed in all the memories that these photos were triggering. He knew that she was just trying to be supportive. She was trying to be who she was, and it was only annoying because he’d been thinking, remembering.

“In your head, where’d you go?” She asked again softly, her lips against his ear as they sat thinking and talking. It was a lot for James to take on, but he was ready for this. He was ready to try and fight his demons, and he knew Merri would listen.

“I was thinking about Manchester. It’s 20 years since the bomb.”

“That’s what these pictures are, huh?” She was clearly looking down at everything that was on the table. There were dozens of them, and she was looking as though there was some familiarity. Then he remembered that she’d had an assignment there. “You can talk to me about it J.”

“I know babe. They’re just memories, I’ll be OK.” He smiled widely then turned to kiss her, knowing that if and when he was ready to talk about the psychological impacts of being that close to one of the biggest bombs in Britain since the Second World War, she’d be there or him. This was something he needed to go back through alone, and he was just glad he had someone there to pick up the pieces when he was done.

**Author's Note:**

> As further reading, here is a link to the Manchester Evening News and their coverage.
> 
> http://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/all-about/ira-manchester-bomb


End file.
